


The Unsuitable Virgin

by FayJay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Crack Fic, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Kink Meme for the following prompt: "Jared's parents arrange for him to be married to a girl he's never met. On his wedding night, he finds out that under her fancy dress, corset, stockings and panties, "Jen" is most definitely not a girl. He -could- stop, have the marriage annulled, humiliate them both, ruin his new "bride"'s family for daring to set him up like this, but he decides to have his fun, first. After all, he could still get the annulment in the morning -- if he feels like it. Would prefer shy, not expecting to still be fucked upon discovery, virgin bottom Jensen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unsuitable Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally write RPS, and I feel bound to add a disclaimer: no insult or disrespect is intended to the gentlemen whose names and visages have been cheekily appropriated for the sake of this utterly cracktastic piece of fluff. I hold them in high esteem, and should be very sorry to cause them any distress; I'm assuming that the following nonsense is far too outre and silly to do so.

At the age of three-and-twenty, the Honourable Jared had been with a sufficient number of lightskirts to know with some certainty that he had very little interest in the fairer sex; but that, as far as his family were concerned, was neither here nor there. As second son of the Earl of Padaleck, it was his duty to wed an appropriate lady of quality and sire a sufficiently large litter of brats to ensure that, even were his older brother and all _his_ wretched offspring to be wiped out by a tragic house fire, or stricken with the consumption, the noble and ancient line of the Padalecks would still endure. Had Jared shown a particular penchant for any of the countless marriageable females his mama had thrust upon him at Almacks, then no doubt his preferences would have been respected – but the Honourable Jared really couldn't find it in him to care a jot one way or the other. They were all as dull as one another, with their coy little laughs and their fluttering fans, and given his druthers young Jared would really rather have spent all his time at his Club, or engaged in such manly pursuits as boxing, cock-fighting, and driving his curricle at break-neck speeds from Land's End to John O'Groats. But, alas, this was not to be. He must and should be married, and that was the end of it. So the Honourable Jared shrugged his broad shoulders in resignation, and told his Mama to do her worst.

Her worst, in this case (or her best, as she assured him in clucking tones) turned out to be one Miss Ackles, a young lady of considerable fortune – albeit a fortune rooted in trade. And, what was worse, an _American_. The Earl was a gentleman much given to speculative endeavours, and he had made some investments in a most uncivilized part of the New World known as Texas; upon his latest visit to the United States, he had reached an agreement with his business partner, a widower called Ackles, and had written back to inform his wife and bachelor son that young Jared's future happiness was assured. Miss Ackles would be accompanied to England by her brother and a maid servant, and once there the Earl recommended that they proclaim the banns and get the wedding over and done with as quickly as possible, and then concentrate upon the creation of more grandchildren post haste.

The Honourable Jared greeted this news with equanimity, to his mother's considerable relief, and stalked off to buy a new horse.

* * * 

He found his equanimity was tested, however, when he actually saw his bride at the altar. She was demure enough, to be sure, in her flowing veil and embroidered silks, but she was also quite astonishingly Junoesque – a veritable giant, in fact. Mistress Genevieve's waist was neat enough, but her shoulders were almost as broad as his own. The Honourable Jared shot incredulous glances sideways during the ceremony – surely this was not the creature his father had described as “dainty and elegant” in his missive? This great tall creature? But on the other hand, it was, in truth, rather pleasant to find himself paired with a woman close to his own height, rather than some tiny little pocket Venus. Perhaps his father had considered that to be part of her charm?

“Do you, Genevieve Ackles, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” Jared listened to Reverend Beaver's voice as he took them through the ceremony, and reflected that it was astonishing how quickly and simply one could lose one's freedom and find oneself shackled to another creature for life.

“I do,” said his bride, in a clear, low voice, and Jared stood up a little straighter. This was the first time he had heard her speak, and he was startled by the sudden spike of desire that her voice sent through him. He had been expecting something much more shrill. He looked sideways at her again, trying to make out the features behind her veil, and in spite of himself the Honourable Jared began to contemplate his wedding night with burgeoning interest. He licked his lips, and found himself speculating upon the possibilities her unexpected height might afford in the bedchamber.

“You may kiss the bride.” And about time too. Impatiently he pushed back the veil, alive with curiosity to discover what manner of creature he had just wedded.

She was – not what he was expecting. Her jaw was rather too broad and her nose too decided to be really pretty, but Jared found his mouth fall open as he met the most astonishingly beautiful and vivid pair of green eyes he had ever seen, and read uncertainty and dread and no little humour in their depths. His bride bit her full lower lip, searching his face nervously for some reaction.

“Surprise?” she said, her voice trembling slightly, and then her eyes widened as Jared pulled her into an unexpectedly passionate clinch.

She resisted a little at first, standing wooden and shocked in his embrace but allowing his tongue to push in between her parted lips and taste her mouth. She was actually trembling in his arms, and too shocked or inexperienced to kiss him back; well of course she was - a virtuous young lady on her wedding day. Small wonder if she felt shy. Jared surprised himself with a sudden rush of pity for her, and resolved to try his best to make the wedding night a success.

When he pulled back she was blushing furiously, her freckles standing out against her fair skin and her eyes glassy and startled and quite astonishingly lovely. He squeezed her hand. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * * 

There was little enough opportunity to talk during the wedding feast or the dancing, for the Honourable Jared found himself obliged to constantly have his hand shaken by this Lord and that, and to nod and smile and make polite conversation with plump women dripping diamonds, all eager to inform him that he had grown a great deal taller since they had seen him last. Genevieve, similarly besieged, looked a little overwhelmed, and he reminded himself that she was all alone in a foreign country (for her brother, young Master Ackles, had accompanied her only to London, before travelling on ahead to Paris – and her maid servant, it appeared, had taken sick and had to leave as well), but she made a brave face of it, and he was pleased to see she was not one of those dreadful maudlin females. He kept casting supportive smiles over to his wife, but had few chances to get her to himself until the time came for dancing. Then he was delighted to have the opportunity to lead her out onto the dance floor for the first waltz. There was an amusing moment at the beginning of the dance where she actually tried to lead, and then looked most flustered to realise that her hands were in the wrong places. She blushed again, and could barely meet his eyes, and it made him want to squeeze her tight – a most unexpected impulse, to be sure. The Honourable Jared found that he really could not wait for the opportunity to unwrap all the layers of satin and lace and take possession of his new bride. He was already growing hard at the prospect. His father, against all expectations, appeared to have chosen astonishingly well.

* * * 

There were cheers and catcalls and bellowed advice as the Honourable Jared carried the fair Genevieve across the threshold of their room. She was no lightweight, to be sure, but she was trembling in his arms like a leaf, her face pressed into his shoulder, and Jared was almost painfully aroused at the thought of being able to have his way with her. At being _expected_, indeed _commanded_ to do so. He set her down on the bed, and then retreated to close and bolt the door – he had no inclination to tolerate any intrusions this night, and some of his friends and relatives were partial to practical jokes. Then he turned on his heel and surveyed his bride, and very much liked what he saw, even down to the wide-eyed expression of fearful anticipation on her face.

He licked his lips. “Don't be afraid, love,” he said, pacing slowly towards the bed – but in truth he rather enjoyed the way her shoulders were shaking infinitesimally, and the darting glances she was sending around the room, as if hoping for some kind of escape. “I promise that you'll enjoy yourself.”

“You don't – you don't know,” she said, wringing her hands and giving an embarrassed little laugh. “I mean, I more than half expected you to guess straight away, even though - but – oh dear. This isn't going the way we planned.” She darted another look up at him through her thick lashes, her green eyes huge. “I didn't think you'd be so – so – this isn't at all what I was expecting.”

Jared perched beside her on the bed and somehow restrained himself from shoving her back down, tearing off her dress and fucking her through the mattress. But he could see it in his mind's eye, and the thought was making his erection jerk eagerly against his belly. She was so unexpectedly _sweet_, with her rueful smile and her trembling, low-pitched voice. He considered making some comforting speech, but when her tongue darted out pinkly to wet her lips he abandoned that idea and just dove right in to kiss her instead.

She made a stifled little sound of startlement as his lips closed over hers, but he wrapped one hand around her shoulder and another around the base of her skull, and held her in place while he kissed the uncertainty right out of her. Their first kiss had been sweet, but this was intoxicating – Jared was acutely conscious that they were alone in the room, and that he was shortly going to get to peel away all the layers of silk and satin and shove his aching erection deep inside his wife, fuck her hard and fast while her green eyes grew wide and that becoming blush mounted her cheeks - and he had _never_ felt so aroused in his life. It was astonishing. She tried to pull away but he laid siege to her, stroking and teasing and curling his tongue around hers until eventually she started to respond, tentatively, and when the tip of her tongue slipped into his mouth he sucked on it so fervently it drew a startled moan from her, and her fingers closed tightly around his biceps. After that she stopped resisting, and let herself get swept up in it all along with him, and it was just about the most startlingly intimate thing he had ever experienced, lightskirts notwithstanding.

He was panting when he broke off, and unable to stop smiling. Genevieve blinked up at him, red-faced and dazed-looking, and her lips were red and glossy with his kisses. He had a sudden vision of that sweet mouth wrapped around his cock, and it sent a shudder of pure wanting through him. Still, she was a modest young lady of good upbringing, and it would not do to shock her too greatly on their first night together. Time enough to introduce her to some of the more unconventional forms of marital love once she had grown a little more accustomed to her role as a wife. He could afford to be kind.

“Stop,” she gasped, shaking her head and trying to pull away from him. “This is – I'm sorry, truly I am, I swear I never meant for it to get so – I'm really sorry. You're going to hate me.” She looked positively stricken, and so beautiful that it made his heart expand in his chest.

He shook his head. “I'm not going to hate you,” he said, smiling. “You need to relax, and stop worrying. Come here. Let me unlace you.”

“No! That is – no, you don't understand.” She was panting now, and wild-eyed. “I'm not – I'm not what you think me.”

The Honourable Jared cocked his head, and considered this assertion. “Is Jonah Ackles your father?” he asked, indulging her.

“Well, yes, but...”

“Were you betrothed to another?”

“No, that's not...” Her voice was growing frantic, her brows drawing together in a frown of real gravity that gave him pause.

He frowned, pondering other possibilities and growing more serious. “Are you a virgin?”

She blushed positively crimson at that. “Yes! Yes I – but that's not the point. You aren't listening.”

“Do you love someone else?”

“No! No, I've never – I've never been in love.” She couldn't look at him. “Please, just – will you shut up for a minute? Please? This is – this is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.” She swallowed, and Jared bit his tongue and tried to be patient. His eyebrows darted up in inquiry, and she gave a small, unhappy laugh. “I'm – oh dear. I don't know how to – I'm not actually Genevieve,” she said at last, in a very small voice.

Jared stared. “You're not – but – I don't understand.” His sense of fond indulgence was quickly fading. “Explain yourself.”

There were tears trembling in her eyes when she looked up, and although she was clearly trying to smile at him, she looked positively miserable.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, and swallowed hard again. “Genevieve didn't want an arranged marriage, and I said I'd help her. She was in love, you see, and I said – I thought – I didn't think about how it would effect you. I was just trying to help Gen. She wanted to be with Katie.” She swallowed, and gave a quavering smile then. “They should – they should be in Paris now, far from my father's influence. Gen always wanted to be on the stage. I think she'll be...”

Jared interrupted this flood of words, his voice shaking with sudden fury. “Then just who the devil _are_ you, madam?” he demanded, and his bride gulped.

“I'm – I'm her brother,” said the figure before him quietly, green eyes watching him to see how he took it. “Her younger brother. I'm Jensen.”

The Honourable Jared stared.

His bride stared nervously back.

“You jest,” Jared said, shakily, after a very long moment. “You are no _man._”

“Am so!” said his bride, sitting up straighter and looking slightly indignant. “I'm every inch a man! I just – Momma used to call me her other daughter and joke I was too pretty for a boy, back when she was alive. And that was how we came upon the idea – but we never meant any harm, sir, truly!”

It was the 'sir' that did it.

“Show me,” ground out Jared, and the boy (for he could see, now, that of course it was a boy, a stripling of sixteen or seventeen, perhaps, and far prettier than any boy had a right to be, but a boy nonetheless) blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Sir?” Jensen said again, uncertainly, and Jared's cock twitched at the word, and the half-frightened tone in which it was uttered.

“Show me that what you say is true. _Boy_. If boy you be.” Jared's mouth curved up into a predatory smile. “Prove it.”

“But I – but – how?” He looked quite adorably disconcerted, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his skirt. “I don't understand. I've told you – what else is there?”

“I'd like to see for myself,” Jared said, watching the boy's face for his reaction. He wasn't disappointed; the green eyes grew impossibly wide, and the blush darkened to crimson, and his beautiful mouth – his _cocksucking_ mouth – dropped open in astonishment.

“But – but I,” he stammered, trying to read Jared's expression. “You can't mean...”

“Oh, I can. I really can. Strip.”

Jensen looked really frightened now. “But I'm not a girl,” he said, as if that made a difference. As if Jared somehow hadn't understood. “I'm just me.”

“Then that will have to do, my lad, for I'm owed a wedding night,” said Jared unkindly. “Let's get that pretty dress off you, wife of mine.”

“No!”

Jared's smile widened. “Oh, it will come off, my lad, whether you remove it willingly or I have to rip it off with my teeth. Don't deceive yourself on that point.”

Jensen swallowed, and Jared read his intentions in the set of his shoulders just before he tried to make a run for it. He lunged forward, catching him as he rose up, and pinned the boy back to the bed, pressing down on him with his full weight, and enjoying the muffled little huff of distress Jensen made as the air was squeezed right out of him. There followed a furious and surprisingly pleasurable little interlude of struggling, at the end of which Jared was lying comfortably between the boy's splayed thighs with both of Jensen's wrists pinned together above his head, and Jensen was looking utterly shocked, and helpless, and so startlingly beautiful that Jared leaned down impulsively and claimed another kiss, following Jensen's mouth when the boy tried to turn away. It was, if anything, even more tantalising than the last one – back when he foolishly believed that he had a woman in his bedchamber.

“Please,” Jensen gasped, when the kiss broke off, but Jared rather suspected that the boy would have bitten his tongue rather than speak if he had any idea how very arousing the desperate little hitch in his voice really was. “Please, sir – don't. I'm sorry you were misled.” His chest shook, and he let out a pitiful little half-sob. “Please stop?”

“You gave yourself to me in the sight of God, and my family, and half the members of the British aristocracy, Jenny,” said the Honourable Jared, studying him with an expression entirely bereft of mercy. “Too late now to start regretting your choices. It's time to pay the piper.”

“But I can't!” the boy said, desperately, and the baffled innocence on his face was quite irresistible. “I'm not a woman, sir! I _can't_ 'pay the piper.'”

Jared laughed. “Oh, we'll think of something,” he said, reaching down with his other hand inside the bunched-up layers of skirts and petticoats until he found a stockinged leg, and slid his hand upwards.

“What are you – what – oh!” Jensen's eyes darkened as his Jared trailed his fingers up over the white pantalettes that covered his thigh. A moment later Jared's fingers closed firmly over the bare flesh exposed at the top of the seemly silk. The lad was already half-hard. He watched in fascination as Jensen's head fell back onto the pillow with an expression of startled and wanton invitation on his too-pretty features, and Jared darted forward to lick the exposed line of his throat. “See? I've already got an idea or two.”

It took very little urging for the lad's cock to be fully hard, and then Jensen was squirming and gasping and shivering underneath him in a way every bit as satisfying as any properly raised young lady might have been hoped to do on her wedding night. Far more so, truth to tell – this was, it transpired, much more to the Honourable Jared's taste. Jared leaned close while he jerked him roughly off, his own face close to the boy's face, drinking in every expression, every gasp, until the lad was arching up off the bed and making helpless little noises of urgent entreaty, on the very brink of coming. And then he squeezed down tight on the base of the shaft, unwilling to let his 'bride' reach fulfillment so early in the evening.

“Not yet,” he said, and Jensen made a desperate sound of protest. Jared let go of the pinioned wrists, certain now that the stripling was in no shape to try to struggle, and pressed one finger down firmly on the boy's lips. He shivered a little himself at the contact. “I said not yet,” he repeated firmly. “Has anyone done that to you before?” Jared asked, watching Jensen's face.

“No – I – no,” he said, sounding half-drunk with it. He blinked blearily up into Jared's face, his eyelashes clumping together, his face beautifully flushed, his breathing ragged. He was the very picture of debauched innocence, with his hard cock sticking up flushed and eager in the middle of his bunched-up skirts, and it was all Jared could do to keep from fucking him then and there.

His eyes narrowed, speculatively. “But you've touched yourself before, of course? The sin of Onan? What boy hasn't?”

Jensen swallowed, and looked away. “Well. Yes.” It was a mortified whisper, and it made Jared smile to see that the lad could still be embarrassed.

“Good. And did you enjoy this? What I did just now? You'd like more?” Jensen nodded, blushing so hard he almost looked burnt. He still couldn't look Jared in the face, but that was fine. “Good. Well then, you shall have more. But first – you owe me, don't you, Jenny my sweet? You owe me an apology, for the shameful trick you've played upon me and mine, and you need to take your punishment like a good boy.” He looked down at all the crumpled satin and lace, and shrugged. “Or a good girl. One or the other.” Jensen made a muffled little sound, but didn't protest again. He was learning. He didn't move when Jared pulled away, stepped off the bed rose to his full height, looking down at him. “Sit up, sweetheart,” he said, gently, and Jensen pulled himself obediently up into a sitting position. Jared reached down and grasped the lad's chin, tilting his head up to look at him. “You're going to make amends now, and you're going to do it prettily.” He unfastened his own breeches, and freed his erection. Jensen flinched back, his eyes like saucers, and looked down, and then up at Jared's face, and then down again, as if unable to believe what was happening.

“What – do you want me to...?” Jensen reached out with one hand, tentatively, and Jared gave a sharp nod.

“Good boy,” he said encouragingly, after a moment, and Jensen wrapped his fingers around the length. Jared drew in a hissing breath and closed his eyes, and then looked back down again to where Jensen was tentatively touching him. “Open your mouth for me,” he said, and Jensen looked up in confusion. “Just do it. Now. That's right. Now – suck it.” He thought that he would never grow tired of seeing Jensen looking shocked. “You heard me,” he said, stepping up so close that his erection was brushing Jensen's cheek. His voice dropped into its lowest register, smoky and threatening. “Take my cock in your mouth and suck it. Hard.” He threaded his fingers through Jensen's fair hair, twining the strands around and around, and helped guide his head into place. And then a moment later he was fucking into Jensen's startled wet mouth, watching the boy's cheeks hollowing out and his eyes bulging wide as his hard cock thrust in and out and Jensen did his best to keep up. Probably he should have been a little gentler, with it being Jensen's first time, but he was still feeling more than a little resentful over being taken for a fool, and righteous indignation encouraged him to shove in deeper, and harder, and faster than perhaps he should have. Jensen made helpless, messy little sounds as Jared pushed into him, saliva spilling out of the sides of his beautiful mouth and shocked little choking noises coming each time Jared thrust in too deep and hit the back of his throat.

It was, quite simply, divine.

There came a point where the Honourable Jared was seriously tempted to abandon any other ideas for the evening, and simply pleasure himself on the boy's mouth, coming down his throat, or perhaps on his pretty face. But he wanted more than that. He wanted everything. He was firmly of the opinion that, after being the victim of so contemptible a deceit, he rather deserved everything. And he intended to take it.

Withdrawing took a monumental force of will, but he managed it. Jensen fell back, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He was trembling, and his own erection was tenting up in the lap of his wedding gown. Jared dropped down to his knees for a moment and pulled the lad's head close, and kissed him. And this time there was no holding back – young Master Ackles returned the kiss with equal passion, if rather less expertise. Jared could taste himself on the boy's tongue.

“You're an admirably quick study, my lad,” he said, unevenly, before rising and crossing over to his dressing table. “Now lie face down on the bed, for me” he said, without looking back. When he returned to the bed he was pleased to see Jensen sprawling obediently on top of the covers, his fair hair flopping down over his face and his shoulders trembling as he lay quite still. He was still wearing the wedding dress, although it was looking decidedly the worse for wear now. One dainty little shoe was still in place, but the other had fallen to the floor, and the sight of that stockinged foot poking out all pale and vulnerable was oddly touching. Jared realised, with a jolt of surprise, that he honestly hadn't enjoyed himself this much in – possibly years. Certainly not in the bed chamber.

“I _am _sorry,” said Jensen into the pillow, his voice muffled, and Jared felt an unexpected little surge of affection for the boy. He sounded very young, and quite pathetically sincere.

“Good,” Jared said, stroking idle fingers down over the satin-encased line of the boy's spine and up over the curve of his buttocks. Jensen's hips were jerking helplessly, and Jared took a moment to wrap his hands around the neat little waist and hold him still. He gave a stifled little moan into the pillow, and Jared smiled. “That's good. It was a wretched piece of work, to deceive a man so. You _should_ be sorry. And you should be punished.” He pulled the skirts up slowly, almost absently, watching with fascination the slow reveal of ankles and calves, the dimpled backs of knees, and thighs. Watching the silken pantalettes coming into view, and then, above them, the curve of the boy's bare arse. Jared drew in a breath with a sharp hiss at the sight of the taut, firm buttocks exposed before him, and he realised, after a moment, that he was trembling. He stroked the pale skin softly, almost tenderly, with the back of his hand, and licked his lips. And then he brought down the broad, flat back of the hairbrush hard, without any warning, once on each cheek. Jensen's whole body flinched, and he made a startled sound of protest into the pillow, but Jared ruffled his short blond hair soothingly.

“You have to take your punishment,” he said reasonably. “You know that.” And then he brought the brush down again, and again, setting up a rhythm and watching with fascination as Jensen's soft white skin began to redden under his blows. Twenty strokes, alternating cheeks, and then he set the brush down on the coverlet, leaned down and blew gently over the burning skin. “Did it hurt?” he asked, curiously.

“No.”

Jared smiled. “You're not a very good liar, Jenny, my sweet. But I'm going to make it better now.” And he picked up the little pot of cold cream and rubbed it onto the welts. Jensen shuddered at each touch, delicate though Jared made his movements. He got a little lost in rubbing the slick white stuff onto Jensen's firm young arse, massaging it in gently, moving in circles until, almost casually, he was rubbing the cream over the boy's hole. He felt the lad stiffen at the first touch, and then relax as he continued to work his way down, rubbing cream onto his inner thighs, and brushing over the little strip of flesh between his arse hole and his balls. Jensen made a very satisfying whimper against the pillow, and Jared went back to rubbing the stuff over his hole, circling around and around and around before finally sliding his index finger in. And in. He felt the muscle resisting, and then letting him inside, and he heard Jensen's shocked gasp as his body was breached for the very first time.

“What?” Jensen said, arching up off the bed and trying to look over his shoulder, and Jared pressed him back down firmly with his free hand, and then dropped a kiss onto one of the welts on his arse.

“Sssh,” he said. “You owe me, remember?”

Jensen gave another wordless whimper, and his head flopped back onto the pillow. Jared went back to what he was doing, enjoying the way that Jensen was desperately humping the coverlet and fucking himself onto Jared's hand. He pushed a second finger inside, and pressed in deeper. He knew when he'd hit the right spot, because Jensen reacted as though he'd been struck by lightning, and the sound that came from him was one of pure, astounded pleasure. One did not attend Eton or Harrow without knowing an awful lot about this kind of thing – but evidently the Greeks had not been the model for whatever education they saw fit to provide in Texas.

“Yes,” said Jared. “See? Like that. It can be like that. Now, I need you to move for me. Can you do that?” He pushed Jensen's knees up under him, so that he was half-crouching, his face pressed into the pillow and his arse raised up in the air, framed by the folds of the wedding gown. Jared took a moment to appreciate the sight arrayed before him, then he slicked his fingers up again with the salve and rubbed it down the length of his cock, thinking back to the sight of Jensen's mouth stretched wide around it. “You're so pretty,” he said, almost meditatively. “Too pretty for a boy, really. Your lips, your arse, your eyes – you're really far too pretty.” He dipped his fingers in the salve once more and then rubbed messy circles around Jensen's hole. “And you must have thought about this. Even if you didn't know the mechanics of the thing – you can't be so foolish that you didn't think ahead to wonder about the wedding night, when your sister talked you into this spectacular piece of folly.” He slipped one finger inside again, up to the knuckle, and worked it around until he found the right spot. He smiled when Jensen yelled into the pillow. “You must have wanted it, Jenny. Jen.” He pushed in a second finger, and a third, and twisted them, stretching him open. And then he lined his cock up with Jensen's tight little arse hole and pushed inside. It was difficult, because the boy was almost painfully tight and his body was resisting the intrusion, but Jared was not about to be cheated at this point. He started off slowly, letting Jensen try to accommodate the bulk of his erection, listening to the broken-off gasps and moans that each thrust were wringing out of the boy. “A boy like you, pretty as you are – if you'd been at school with me, they'd _all_ have had you. They'd have taken turns, Jen. Passed you around like a favourite toy. Miss Ackles, they'd have called you, and you'd have had one cock in your mouth and another in your arse, filling you up, fucking you one after another. Every night, Jen. For years and years.” His hips were snapping fast and hard now, caught up in the memories of school and the thought of this impossibly pretty young man alone at the hands of a whole host of sexually frustrated teenage boys. “Aren't you lucky I found you first?” he gasped, reaching around and wrapping his hand around the boy's erection and beginning to jack him off once again. “You're mine, now, Jen. Just mine. Nobody else can have you. You promised yourself to me. Just me. Fuck, but you're lovely! And you're all mine!”

Jensen came first, unsurprisingly, and Jared continued to thrust into him and mutter hoarse endearments and promises until he finally couldn't hold back any longer and spent himself inside. And then they both collapsed in a sticky tangle of limbs and clothes, and Jared gingerly withdrew himself from Jensen's body, wincing.

Neither of them spoke afterwards, for a long moment. The Honourable Jared stared up at the ceiling, and thought about a number of things.

“Are you hurt, lad?” he asked at last, and Jensen made a small snuffling noise into the pillow that might have been no, or might not have been. Jared sighed, and pulled the boy over to face him. He was still quite as shockingly pretty as Jared remembered – that hadn't been the product of his lust-addled brains, at any rate. “Did I hurt you?” he said again.

“A bit,” admitted Jensen, without looking at him. And, really, what boy had eyelashes like that? It was just asking for trouble.

“I'm sorry for that,” Jared said, and leaned in and kissed him gently on the mouth. The kiss lasted rather longer than he was intending, and became more of a leisurely exploration of mouths, and hands, and bodies. Almost, in fact, a cuddle.

“I really _am_ sorry,” said Jensen again, with a suspicious sniff, and Jared tugged him in closer. “About lying, I mean. It wasn't - honourable.”

“She must be quite a forceful woman, your sister,” Jared hazarded, and Jensen nodded against his shoulder. “And you're – I know I'm not going to like the answer to this, but how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” said Jensen, defensively. Jared sighed.

“Seventeen. I am definitely going to Hell. Your sister, as I understand it, is nineteen years of age?”

“That's right.”

“Well, I don't think we can hold you wholly responsible for this mess, really, can we?” He sighed. “And I'm the one who should be apologising. That was quite unconscionable behaviour. Delicious, but – unconscionable.”

Jensen snuggled in a bit closer, and didn't say anything for a while. “Are you going to send me away?” he asked. “Is Gen – will Gen get in trouble? When they find out?”

“Well,” the Honourable Jared said, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose that depends on whether or not they find out.” He pulled a face, and darted a sideways glance down at the young man in his arms. “I presume you want to go home?” There was a rather pregnant pause. “I mean, I suppose you have a life in Texas, to which you're accustomed? And where you don't have to walk around in stays and yards of muslin all day? I mean, I can hardly expect you to stay on as my wife, can I?” The silence grew, and Jared shifted until he could get a proper look at Jensen's face. The boy was blushing quite fiercely. Jared frowned. “I'll do my best to keep you out of trouble, lad. And if your sister is so determined not to be my wife – well, she's managed to escape to Paris, and neither you nor I needs to tell anyone that's where she went. I shan't betray you. You needn't be afraid of going home.”

“Oh.”

The silence continued, and the Honourable Jared felt obliged to break it once more. “Although, of course, if you were minded to stay...” he swallowed. “Well, you'd be very welcome to do that too. If you wanted.”

“You're jesting with me,” Jensen said, in a small voice. “It's impossible.”

The Honourable Jared frowned up at the ceiling. “It's certainly pretty bloody difficult, I'll give you that. But – if you wanted to stay, we could - I don't know, move to France, like Mistress Genevieve, perhaps, or – oh, we could go on a honeymoon, and my poor dear wife could meet with a tragic accident, and then her brother and I could set up house together as confirmed bachelors. Or something. I don't know. But – if you _wanted_ to stay, we could think of something.”

The pause grew until Jared began to suspect his companion had fallen asleep, and then at last Jensen gave a small hiccup of sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I _really_ want to stay,” he said, in a barely audible voice. “I left home with Gen because – I really don't want to be there. I can't be the son my father wants, and I thought – well, I don't know what I thought, really. Just that this was an escape, somehow. Which was stupid of me, because I wasn't thinking of what would happen next. But – yes. Please. I'd like to stay. If you'll have me.”

The Right Honourable Jared felt like jumping on the bed and shouting Hallelujah, but he contented himself with dragging his unlikely bride up into another kiss. “Then stay you shall,” he said, in a tone of voice that would brook no interference.

FINIS


End file.
